Enter Damian
by djk1982
Summary: Someone is stalking Dorothy. Angel is keeping secrets. Beck is back. And Roger Smith finds himself caught in the middle as he discovers the truth of Dorothy's creation.
1. Default Chapter

Greetings, true believers! To those of you who read the previous (unfinished) Big O fic that I had posted here, I chose to remove it to retool the initial concept I had come up with for it. The result is what you now have before you. As always, Big O and its characters do not belong to me, neither do the song lyrics used in this fic. Any original characters, however, are mine, so there! Read on and enjoy!  
  
ENTER DAMIAN PART 1  
  
"If looks could kill  
  
You'd be lying on the floor  
  
You'd be begging me  
  
Please, please baby don't hurt me no more!"  
  
HEART  
  
Angel pushed her bike faster, and faster, as fast as it could go. She pushed the gas as far as it could take her, the engine of the motorcycle growling like a tiger as she roared down the empty streets. She narrowed her eyes behind the visor of her helmet, trying hard to concentrate on the road ahead of her.  
But still, the footfalls came. They fell hard and fast, faster than any normal feet could go. They were coming up close behind her, and it sent a wave of panic through her as she realized just how close they were.  
"Its impossible..." she muttered to herself as she tried to go faster, "No one can move that fast...this guy isn't human!"  
The sound of the feet suddenly got even faster, and an instant later her bike slammed to a stop, and it was all Angel could do to keep herself from flying over the handlebars with the momentum of the sudden halt. She pushed hard on the gas, tried to speed out of his grasp and away to freedom. But she remained frozen. She tried to stand up, to run, but a heavy hand clapped onto her shoulder and shoved her back down onto the seat.  
"You know, I never did like you..." a soft, cultured sounding voice said next to her head. Cold sweat trickled down her neck as she heard the voice, but felt no breath on her skin. "Neither did Dorothy...it will come as no consequence to her then when your body is found."  
He lifted the motorcycle, Angel and all, into the air, above his head, and hurled it several yards down the street. It slammed into the pavement, the sound of the crash covering Angel's screams of pain.  
She clenched her teeth and struggled to free herself from the wreck of her vehicle. She groaned through the pain that tore up and down her body, and tried to drag herself out from under her bike. But her leg was caught, and she was pinned, immobile. She heard his footfalls again, much softer this time, coming up to her. She found herself suddenly freed as the bike was lifted up off her, and she tried desperately to scramble as far as she could. But all hope was crushed out of her, as her body itself was also nearly crushed when he dropped the motorcycle back down onto her.  
  
He lifted it off her once again, and this time tossed it aside. He looked down at the remnants of Angel, her body broken. But she was still alive, though barely. She struggled painfully with each breath. Blood trickled from her mouth, from her nose, from her ears, and there were several small, but quickly growing stains under her clothes.  
He picked her up in his infinitely powerful arms, held her ruined body high over his head, and then threw her through the glass window of a flower shop on the street next to them. The store's security alarm blared loudly, but he did not want her found just that easily. He reached in through the shattered glass and retrieved her a second time. He dragged her along the pavement, gripping her by her hair. He tossed her body into a dumpster, like a sack of waste, and slammed the cover shut. She was left, suffering in darkness...  
  
The music seared in his ears like white-hot pokers. He tried to ignore it at first. Then he struggled to pretend he did not hear it. He scrunched himself up into a ball, as if the tightening of each muscle in his body would somehow fortify him against the tortured sounds that were plaguing him. He gripped hard into his pillow, almost as if to rip through the soft silk and shred the cotton laying underneath. Finally, he could take it no more.  
Roger Smith, the top negotiator of Paradigm City, a city without memories, threw the door of his bedroom open. He narrowed his eyes with searing irritation. The object of his revulsion sat, across the room, banging away on the keys of the piano. She did not even turn her head to acknowledge him, ignoring him completely. She continued to ignore him until he stood right alongside her. She finished her song, closed the lid over the piano keys, and finally acknowledged his presence.  
"Good morning Roger."  
"Dorothy, for God's sake" Roger groaned as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair, "Would it kill you to let me sleep just once?"  
"This is a tradition, Roger. To break it would be wrong. Don't be such a louse."  
Roger glowered at her and the piano, and strongly considered at that moment the benefits of taking an axe to that grand instrument. He let the argument pass, not wanting to embitter his mood any further. Norman had a late breakfast, actually more like an early lunch, well prepared for him, and he savored each bite. He then set about his usual ritual of showering and dressing with gusto. As he adjusted his tie in front of the mirror, he could not help but feel a brief streak of vanity. He wondered how it was that Paradigm City was fortunate enough to have a negotiator who was as talented, not to mention handsome, as he.  
He took the elevator down to his office. He walked over this desk and turned over some of his hourglasses for sheer amusement. He then checked his appointments, and found that he had none scheduled for this day. Evidently Paradigm was currently in a state of peace, and no negotiating was needed. Not that it bothered him, it was a welcome reprieve from the seemingly weekly attacks on the city by monstrous machines and foreign menaces.  
"Roger, telephone" Dorothy called from the stairwell. Roger sighed, hoping that it would not be something too urgent. He climbed the stairs and took the phone from the tray Dorothy had brought it to him on. He held it to the side of his face.  
"This is Roger Smith, hello?" He waited a moment for an answer, but instead he heard the sound of very raspy, labored breathing. After a moment of that horrible noise, a weak and painful sounding, but familiar voice came to his ears.  
"Roger...I...I need you...please..."  
"Angel!" Roger shouted when he recognized the voice. The pain he heard in her frightened him. "Angel, I'm on my way, where are you?" After listening to her agonized voice a few moments longer, he hurried on his way, not even bothering to place the phone back its receiver, instead letting it drop and dangle from its chord. He rushed so fast that he did not even notice the slight look of disdain on Dorothy's face. 


	2. Chapter 2

PART 2  
  
There was a light on in the Smith Household. It was in a guest bedroom down the hall from Roger's on bedroom. Roger Smith himself was currently seated in this guestroom, his head in his hands. His coat was draped on the chair behind him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  
  
He was sitting next to the bed, whose current occupant did not seem well at all. Angel had been lapsing in and out of consciousness as Roger had driven back to his home, and after Norman had administered some drugs to help numb her pain, she had fallen into a deep sleep and had yet to awaken. An oxygen mask helped force air into her broken body. An intravenous needle stuck in her arm, slowly dripping the painkillers into her body, otherwise she would not be able to sleep as peacefully as this. A heart monitor kept track of her weak heartbeat.  
Norman stepped into the room and checked her pulse. He then placed a digital thermometer into her ear, checked her body temperature. He shook his head.  
"How is she doing, Norman?" Roger asked as he watched.  
"Not very well, I'm afraid" Norman responded gravely. "A great deal of blood was lost. She suffered several broken bones, including both her legs and a rib, which pierced her lung. She also has a severe concussion. But, she is a strong girl. She is managing to hang on. The next few days will be crucial." Norman inserted a fresh intravenous feeding bag and left.  
Roger sati, watching Angel as she slept. He sighed and balanced his chin in his palm.  
"Angel..." he thought aloud, "How did you get into trouble this time?" He stood up and strode across the room, staring out the window, gazing out at the bright lights of the Paradigm skyline. Somewhere out there, there was a person who had tried to kill this woman. He wondered who they were, why did they do this, how did she bring their anger down on herself? Angel was easily the most troublesome woman Roger had ever known, but she was also the most cautious, and usually came prepared for whatever situation would arise. But it seemed that this time she had been caught totally off guard. Who could have gotten the drop on her like this?  
"Master Roger" Norman said from the doorway, breaking Roger away from his thoughts. "Colonel Dastun is here to see you. He is waiting in your office."  
  
Dastun hunched over Roger's desk, examining some of the hourglasses. Why Roger collected these strange things was beyond him.  
"Dastun" Roger said as he came down the staircase. "What brings you here at this hour?"  
"Just wonder if you know anything about this" Dastun replied as he turned to face Roger. He held up his arm, and clutched in his hand was a banged up license plate. It was a vanity plate, white bordered in pink, and the pink letters read ANGEL. Roger stepped forward, took it from Dastun and examined it.  
"Well, I've seen it before, if that is what you are asking me. How did you come by it?" Roger said, doing a remarkable job of keeping his cool in light of this development.  
"Some officers responded to a security alarm at a downtown florist shop. They said when they got there that the place was all smashed up, and they found a wrecked motorcycle not too far from the scene. They took that off it." Now Dastun narrowed his eyes, his tone became super-serious. He focused his gaze on Roger's face, trying to read his expressions. "Has she tried to contact you, Roger?"  
"I haven't seen her for weeks now. I'm afraid I can't help you here, Dastun."  
"We only have one witness," Dastun continued, ignoring Roger's denials. "She lives in that area. She said she heard the sound of someone racing down the street right near her apartment, and then she heard a woman screaming. If she was on that thing when it got trashed, Roger, then she's in really bad shape right now. If she tries to contact you, for any purpose..."  
"You'll be the first to know, of course." Dastun chortled, not believing a word of it. Paradigm's Top Negotiator had kept secrets from him in the past, something he doubted would change anytime soon. "Well, I guess there's not much more I can ask of you. Say, you wouldn't happen to have that bottle we opened last time around, would you?"  
"Sorry, but I'm not in the mood for a drink right now" Roger said, shrugging slightly. "I just want to get to bed."  
"Pity. Well, guess I'll see you around. Don't be a stranger, Roger." Dastun said, saluting him briefly before he left. Roger remained, standing alone in his office, considering what he should do next.  
  
"Are you kidding me?" Beck Gold whined. He took a swig from the bottle of cheap liquor this man had bought him to help in their bargaining, and then passed it to his cronies, who were seated in the back seat of the car.  
"I am quite serious" the stranger said, his voice perfectly monotone. His hands remained on the steering wheel, as if ready to take off at any moment. Beck kept a close eye on that, ready to leap from the car if it started moving.  
"I told you already, committing the same crime more than once is not my style. Besides, I've been humiliated by Roger Smith enough times. I'm trying to keep my distance from him from now on."  
"You needn't fear Roger Smith" came the response. "When the timing is right, I will deal with him personally."  
"Oh, a tough guy, huh?" said Alexis, Beck's current squeeze from the back seat. Beck waved for her to be quiet, he was in the middle of business.  
"You think you can take care of him, huh? You capable of backing up those words, pal?"  
The stranger reached into the back of the car, grabbing the bottle away from Alexis mid-swig. He held his arm out the window, and promptly broke the bottle to pieces in his own hand. "Okay, okay, I get the picture!" Beck said, waving his hands in front of him while the stranger wiped his hand off with a handkerchief.  
"I am not asking you to kidnap Dorothy Wayneright" he said as he cleaned himself off, "You merely need to make the arrangements for her to be at the Wayneright Mansion at the time I have specified."  
"What's so special about that old place, huh?" Beck said. When he received no reply, he decided to go another direction. "And, payment would be..."  
"You will be amply rewarded with memories straight from the journals of Timothy Wayneright and Miguel Solderno."  
"You serious?" Beck said, his interest truly perked now. "You have their journals?" Again, he received no response. "Hm...maybe while I'm at it Dorothy and I can get reacquainted. I'd savor the chance to fool around with her circuitry again..." he chuckled to himself.  
Now, the stranger responded. He grew tense, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. His eyes narrowed, though they remained facing forward. He spoke now in a strained, irritated voice.  
"If Dorothy is in any way harmed, Beck, then I will peel you like an onion; layer by layer." He placed one hand down on the dashboard and tore the leather upholstery away from it. Beck gulped.  
"Hey, I was just kidding. So, when do we start?"  
"Effective immediately." 


	3. Chapter 3

PART 3  
  
"There was a fellow here looking for you the other day, Dorothy." Instro said this casually as he watched over Dorothy's shoulder.  
"Really, Instro?" Dorothy said as she continued to play. As ever, her performance was flawless, but still, there was the frustrating lack of that rich emotion that layered Instro's playing. Somehow, he managed to put a sort of heart into his music that was beyond Dorothy. She struggled with it even now, though her playing would not have hinted at how frustrated she was by this.  
"Yes. He was asking all sorts of questions about you."  
"And what did you tell him?" she stopped playing. She remained seated, not turning to face him.  
"Oh, nothing of great import, if that bothers you" he said. He stepped forward, placed a new piece of sheet music in front of Dorothy. "This is something new to practice honing your skills on." Dorothy began immediately, following the notes perfectly.  
"Why was he looking for me?"  
"Come to think of it, he didn't say" Instro said after considering it for a moment. "He just said he had heard I was giving you lessons, and whether I would be seeing you again soon or not."  
"And?"  
"I told him I wasn't sure. Far be it for me to pry into your private life, Dorothy."  
"Who was this man?"  
"He didn't give me a name, but he said he was an acquaintance of yours."  
"I have no acquaintances." She stopped playing, the conversation now diverting her attention. She looked up at Instro, her emotionless eyes speaking volumes. "What did he look like?"  
"Well, I hope you won't consider this odd Dorothy, but I'd have to say he looked a great deal like you."  
  
"I'm afraid I can't be of much assistance to you this time, Roger." Big Ear kept his eyes firmly glued on his newspaper, never even turning his head to address Paradigm's Top Negotiator.  
"Are you sure?" Roger said, reaching into his pocket. "If it's a matter of compensation..."  
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with that" Big Ear said as he scanned over the headlines, "I just legitimately have no information for you concerning this matter. Though there is a rumor..."  
"Oh?" Roger said, taking a sip of his drink.  
"Yes. The word on the street has been that Solderno's ghost has been walking at night."  
"Huh?"  
"Those are the precise words I heard it described as, Roger. Solderno's ghost is walking at night."  
"Solderno..." Roger felt his memory wandering back to the day he had first met Dorothy Wayneright. Solderno had been claiming to be her father, and Timothy Wayneright had called himself her grandfather. He sighed as he pondered this. He stood, slapped a wad of money down onto the table in front of Big Ear, who immediately covered it with his newspaper. He raised his glass to Roger in a silent toast as he departed.  
  
A pair of cold eyes watched as Dorothy Wayneright emerged from the Amadeus Pub. They watched as she said goodbye to Instro, and then began to walk down the street.  
He opened the door of his car and got out. He followed her, always a good twenty feet behind. He walked at a slow, measured pace; Dorothy was far more observant than her nature would imply, that much he knew, and he would not risk her becoming aware of his presence yet. His eyes were glued firmly on her as he followed, never wandering to any of the sights of people that flowed about the two of them.  
He had been following her for five blocks when the black car pulled up to the curb alongside her. He froze in place and frowned, knowing the driver of that car. The door opened, and she got in. He watched, his eyes narrowed as they drove away down the street. He remained standing where he was for several moments, and then turned to go back to his own car.  
  
"How was your lesson today, Dorothy?" Roger said, breaking the silence that had held them for five minutes.  
"Instro says I am improving," she said in her usual monotone. Roger smiled to himself, hoping that this might eventually mean not being awoken by the tormenting sounds of her sonata. "And he also said someone was looking for me."  
"Someone was looking for you?" Roger said, his thoughts immediately throwing back to what Big Ear had told him.  
"Yes. Someone who looked like me."  
"Solderno's ghost is walking at night..." Roger muttered to himself.  
"What was that, Roger?" Dorothy said, her interest seeming perked.  
"Nothing, nothing." Roger said quickly. As if summoned by his sudden discomfort, the radio began ringing. Roger sighed with relief and flipped it's switch. "Yes Norman?"  
"Master Roger, it seems our guest has come to."  
  
Five minutes earlier...  
  
Norman shook his head as he checked the young woman's pulse. He could not help but feel sorry for her; she seemed such a lovely young lady. He could not imagine the kind of monster who would want to do this to someone like her.  
He started to pull her blanket back up around her collar when she shuddered and emitted a faint moan. Norman froze, waiting...  
She moved. Her arms wriggled around, and her eyes fluttered. She gave a longer, clearer moan as she regained consciousness. Norman turned to hurry to the phone to let Roger know of this development. But as he turned to leave, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him back around.  
"Roger..." she said softly, her voice crackly. Norman did not correct her, but waited for her to say something else. "Damian...it was Damian..." 


	4. Chapter 4

PART 4  
  
There was a light in the window. Angel looked up and narrowed her eyes, trying to make out any shapes that might be visible. But all she saw was a dim light. But there was definitely someone home.  
She entered the Wayneright Mansion cautiously, walking very slowly, her footfalls soft and silent. She stopped every dozen feet or so to listen. When she found herself standing before the great portrait of Dorothy Wayneright, the real Dorothy Wayneright, she stopped to examine the face. It did indeed look like that foul tempered android Roger Smith had become so attached to. But there was the distinct difference in the features of the face, the details of the eyes and the smile that implied life. The current Dorothy lacked those. Angel felt a slight twinge of annoyance when she thought about that android. Roger Smith was a handsome, intelligent, and wealthy man; he could have his choice of women to fill that dull mansion of his, and yet he chose one who was not even a real woman. The reasoning behind his thinking escaped her  
The sound of footsteps shook her back to reality. They were somewhere nearby. She carefully made her way through the passageways she had encountered on her previous visit to this place. The halls were all aired out, and doors had been left open, implying a recent inhabitant. This was getting better every second.  
She found herself standing before a door. Below the door, she could see the lights on. She reached for her gun, but froze when the sounds of music rose to her ears. It was the playing of a violin, soft and sweet. The music rose and filled the emptiness of the great mansion, giving the impressions of life and happiness.  
Angel shrugged the music off and readied herself. She threw the door open, and gazed into the large room. In the center, a grand piano sat. And next to the piano was a man. No, not a man, his movements were all wrong; something was not right. He was playing the violin she had heard, but he stopped the instant she entered. He turned and faced her with eyes cold as ice, but the moment they locked on her they filled with a rage she had never imagined.  
"Woman, what are you doing here?"  
Angel screamed.  
  
Angel snapped awake. Her eyes flicked about and took in the now familiar surroundings of Roger Smith's home. She looked down and remembered her condition; she was seated in a wheelchair, her legs held out straight in front of her, covered in casts. "Well, glad to see you're up and about." Roger Smith's voice drew her attention to the doorway. He stood, leaning against the doorframe, and amused smile playing across his face.  
"Thanks for the consideration." Angel said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  
"She seemed desperate for mobility." Norman explained from behind Roger. "Her legs will need a few more days before they are healed enough to begin any sort of therapy." He set down a tray of food on the nightstand next to the bed and then left them.  
"Now that isn't very nice." Roger said as he sat down alongside the bed. "Norman went to great lengths to help you, the least you could do is be nice to him." Roger said. Angel sighed sadly, and looked down at her lap. Roger let her think for a moment before he pressed her for details. "Angel, how did this happen?"  
"I heard a rumor..." she said, very hesitantly. "About how Soldeno's..."  
  
"Solderno's ghost is walking at night." Roger cut her off.  
"How did you know that?" she said, her surprise registering in her face.  
"I have my resources. Go on."  
"I went to the Wayneright Mansion, trying to find memories. But when I got there, there was someone else there. He called me a trespasser, and he chased me. I...I can't remember much after that."  
"Someone was waiting at the Wayneright Mansion?" Roger said, now feeling even more confused. "Who were they?" he thought aloud.  
"His name is Damian." Roger looked at Angel, his eyes large, disbelieving.  
"How did you know that?"  
"I...I don't know..."  
  
Colonel Dastun sighed and crossed his arms. He looked down at the floor, grumbling to himself. He had hoped to get more information from Roger Smith, but old feelings of loyalty kept him from pressing him for more details. He could just get a warrant and have Roger's home searched, but Roger was a good man, and to do so would simply destroy his chances of getting any further help from him in the future.  
Dastun's eyes rose out to gaze at the city. He could not help but feel some frustration at working in this city; this city without memories. When people could not remember who they were, where they came from, how could he ask them to place any trust in him or his people? And what little trust the public had in the Military Police diminished each time the black megadues appeared. It's presence was a constant reminder of the shortcomings of the police, of their weakness. He sometimes despaired of ever being able to truly protect these people the way they needed to. What could he and his people do against these forces that kept coming from parts unknown, wielding such tremendous and terrible power?  
He shook his head and determined not to think about that stuff for the rest of the day. He tried to focus on the situation at hand. He knew the wrecked motorcycle belonged to that strange woman who came from outside Paradigm. And he knew that Roger knew who she was, and was probably hiding something, maybe inside that mansion of his. And there was a rumor floating about the streets about the man who had created Dorothy, Roger's live-in android. Somehow those things had to connect. But how?  
All of these thoughts drained immediately from Dastun when he saw the man in the cemetery. He was kneeling before one of the graves, seemingly praying. Something about him made Dastun's instincts flare, and he ordered his driver to stop. He leapt from the patrol car, scrambled over the fence, ran between the gravestones, but was too little, too late. The man had already vanished.  
"Damn." Dastun growled under his breath, and pulled on the brim of his hat. He looked down at the graves. "What the hell..." he thought aloud. He was staring down at the headstones of Timothy Wayneright and Miguel Solderno. And placed on the ground below Wayneright's headstone was a small picture. Dastun picked it up and examined it.  
It was a black and white photograph. In it, a man and woman's bodies were visible, but not their faces, their heads cut out of the picture at the neck. In the woman's lap was a baby, smiling with an infant's joy. Dastun flipped the picture over and read the word penned on it. "Damian..." 


	5. Chapter 5

PART 5  
  
"Are you kidding me?" Dastun looked up from his papers to address Roger, and frowned when he saw that he was trying to open the file cabinet. He cleared his throat loudly, and Roger stopped trying to snoop and turned his attention back to his old friend.  
"The rumor is about her creator, Roger. Its hard to imagine she doesn't know something about it."  
"Dorothy hasn't left home in days, Dastun, not since you told us Beck was out again."  
"Yeah...sorry, we're still not having any luck finding him. He's pretty smart."  
"Smart is not the word I'd use." Roger muttered. He grimaced slightly at the picture on Dastun's desk; the old picture from his days with the Military Police, before Dastun was a colonel, and before he was a Negotiator. "But anyhow, there's no way Dorothy could be connected to it."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
"What makes you so curios all of a sudden?" Now it was Roger's turn to be inquisitive. He turned his gaze onto Dastun, who closed his eyes and leaned back into his chair.  
"I...saw someone near Wayneright and Solderno's graves the other day."  
"What?"  
"I tried to go after him, but he got away before I could do anything. I have a suspicion that someone connected to Dorothy is the one who left that wreck outside the Dome's." Roger remained silent, considering this for a moment. "By the way, Roger..." The Negotiator looked at Dastun. The colonel chuckled slightly, trying to play down the awkwardness of his next question. "You wouldn't happen to know if Dorothy is an only child, would you?"  
  
There it was. The Police Station. He sat across the street in his car, watching from behind the steering wheel. He had watched Roger Smith go in there ten minutes ago. He knew about Smith's past with the Police, and it only furthered his disapproval of this man. Surely a man who quit the Military Police under such unusual circumstances could not take proper care of Dorothy.  
He opened the door and got out. He walked slowly across the street, not caring about the honks of the horns of cars that stopped short to avoid hitting him. The Police Station loomed before him. He had to do something.  
  
"My, my, a letter from Philip." Norman exclaimed. He held the envelope up, examining it before the light as if he could tell what the letter within said by seeing through it.  
"Philip?" Dorothy said. She sat nearby, peeling potatoes. Norman had just stepped into the kitchen and begun sorting through the day's mail.  
  
"Yes, Dorothy. Philip is my brother."  
"I was unaware you had a brother."  
"Yes. We have not spoken much over the past few years. I'm afraid we had a disagreement before I met Master Roger. He took a wife and home outside the Domes." Dorothy did not raise her head to Norman's story, though she was more interested than she showed. Norman began to open the envelope.  
"Norman..."  
"Yes, Dorothy?"  
"The woman in the guest bedroom, how long do you think she will be staying?"  
"I'm not sure, Dorothy. Her condition is most serious. She will likely be here for weeks. Does it bother you?"  
"No, not at all." As Norman read his brother's letter, Dorothy began to peel a little harder, as if she were visualizing that it was not a potato she was peeling the skin off of...  
  
"I am a friend of Roger Smith. I was told that he was here. May I see him please?"  
The officer looked at the man before him. He could not make out his face very well, it was hidden behind a hood. His clothes were certainly odd; black khaki pants, a gray denim shirt, and a red cape and hood. He looked like something out of a fairy tale.  
"Paradigm City's Top Negotiator is in a meeting with Colonel Dastun. If you'd like to wait till he's done, there's a bench right over there."  
"I am afraid I must insist on seeing him now."  
He grabbed the officer's collar, and with the simplest motion, tossed him across the room. He crashed into the wall with a loud thud, and fell unconscious to the floor.  
  
"What was that?" Roger and Dastun both turned and looked at the closed door of Dastun's office, waiting for something else to happen. They did not have to wait long, for soon the sounds of a multitude of feet running, crashes, and men crying out filled their ears. Roger moved for the door when Dastun stopped him.  
"Hold it Roger" Dastun said, placing a hand on Roger's shoulder. "You're a civilian in a Police Station. If you get hurt, it's our fault. We'll take care of this." Dastun stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.  
In the hall, Dastun saw officers scrambling to load their weapons. He stepped out into the main reception area. People were all on the ground; some were hunched behind desks, others were laying on the floor. One officer jumped to his feet and ran across the room, but was then flung back by a force far stronger than a man.  
Dastuns' jaw dropped at the person who was slowly making his way across the room. He tossed any who tried to oppose his progress aside with the simplest movements. He picked a desks off the floor with one hand and tossed it across the room. It crashed into an officer who made a break for a door. He kicked a chair, and it screeched across the floor, knocking over and officer who tried to take aim with his pistol.  
Dastun growled and charged. He was a large man, burly, and toughened by years of fighting with thugs and punks on the streets. So, it came as a considerable surprise to the seasoned officer when this attacker simply backhanded him away. He flew into the wall and lay prone on the floor. As the shape loomed over him, he scrambled to pull his gun from its holster at his side. But the moment he whipped it out and held it up, the pale hand of his attacker tore it from his grasp. He crushed it in his hand as if it were tin foil. Dastun could do nothing but gape.  
"Hey you!" The attacker turned and was struck in the face by a fire extinguisher, wielded by Paradigm's Top Negotiator. This at least knocked this person off balance, and Roger landed several more blows. But it all proved to little effect; the stranger simply stood straight, a full head taller than Roger. Roger tried to press in with another hard strike, but found himself lifted up off his feet and dropped down onto one of the many desks that littered the room.  
"Roger Smith..." a soft voice crooned above him. Roger looked up, and gasped at the pale features he saw below that hood. "You are not worthy of Dorothy." The attacked clapped his fists together, raising them above his head...  
Dastun smashed a wooden chair across his back. It turned his attention onto the Colonel, who stood, his fists held up in a combat ready stance, though he already knew himself to be no match for this monstrosity. It reached out for him when several gunshots burst into the air.  
The mysterious assailant leapt into the air, flipping over the heads of the scrambling officers, and landing gracefully at the entrance door. He frowned as he watched the dozens of officers standing up, cocking their weapons, ready to fight. He turned and bolted out.  
"Stop that man!" Roger shouted, giving chase. But the stranger moved much faster than he could, and by the time Roger ran into the street, all that was left of this attacker was streaks of rubber on the pavement and the screech of a car tearing down the street.  
"Who the hell was that?" Dastun said as he came up alongside Roger. Roger stood, panting for breath, his eyes narrowing as he stared down the street where the car had gone.  
"I don't know. But I intend to find out." 


	6. Chapter 6

PART 6  
  
He gazed out over the skyline of Paradigm. The view was magnificent; it would take his breath away, if such rules applied to him. He stood, still as a statue, his clothes fluttering a little in the wind. He considered what would happen next. It was unfortunate that people would have to die. But, such was destiny.  
For a time, he had considered sparing this city. But now, Roger Smith would witness its dismemberment, first hand.  
  
"Would you two boneheads knock it off! You're blowing our cover!" Beck growled at his bumbling assistants. He reached over, grabbed the miniature videogame from their hands and tossed it out the window, where it was promptly crushed by the passing traffic.  
"Come on boss, we're bored." T-Bone whined, sounding like a scolded six year old. Beck tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying not to lose his patience. This whole situation was starting to grate his nerves.  
"He told us to wait till he made the distraction," he grunted between his teeth. His lackey's continued to moan and groan while he tried to consider what he was going to do once this was over. Solderno and Wayneright's journals could be of limitless use to him, he just had to figure out the best way to utilize them.  
"Hey, baby, you better check this out!" Alexis squeaked from the back seat. She had been wearing a handheld radio-piece in her ear. She handed it forward to Beck, who held it up to his own ear. After a few moments his eyes widened and his characteristically crazed looking grin crawled across his face.  
"I've got to hand it to him...THAT'S what I call a distraction!"  
  
The citizen's of Paradigm City had almost grown used to the almost weekly attacks by foreign megadeus' and other monstrosities. The Military Police had issued many orders instructing the people on how to be prepared for such emergencies; there had even been evacuation drills encompassing whole chunks of the city. But nothing could have prepared the citizens for the monstrosity that now blocked out the light from their vision.  
It was like no megadeus that had ever been seen. It towered, monstrously huge, larger than any of the mechanical titans that had attacked this city yet. Its exterior blazed a bright blue, save for the massive black eye that dominated the center of its head. Its humungous feet crushed craters into the streets of Paradigm, its gigantic shoulders tore chunks if concrete and steel as it moved between the skyscrapers.  
"Fire! Force it back!" Dastun shouted through his megaphone. The row of Military Police tanks behind him burst off a volley of shells at their new enemy. Dastun gripped the handle of the megaphone tighter, hoping against reality...  
He growled with intense frustration when, as he had expected, the megadeus simply ignored the assault as if it were the gentle caress of a spring shower. It kept its back turned to the Police units attempted distractions, and continued on its steady path toward the massive dome that dominated the center of the city. Dastun cursed and threw the megaphone to the ground, shattering it to pieces. It was then that he felt the rumbling.  
"Not again..." the colonel muttered to himself. He grabbed onto the squad car next to him and held on for dear life as the ground began to tremor as if an earthquake were coming.  
Several blocks away, the asphalt trembled and collapsed into the ground, leaving an opening big enough for the city's black knight to come to its rescue.  
  
CAST IN THE NAME OF GOD...YE NOT GUILTY  
Roger Smith smiled to himself as he watched the familiar words flash across the monitor inside Big O's cockpit. He gripped the controls, his hands firm and steady. He watched as the skyline of the city slowly filled his vision. When he saw the nightmare that dominated the monitors, his jaw dropped.  
"What kind of a megaeus is it? Its huge!" Roger thought aloud. As if it had somehow heard him, the monstrosity turned to face Big O.  
"Finally drew you out, Negotiator!" a demonic sounding voice crackled over the loudspeakers. Roger gasped when he heard the words.  
"I don't know who you are..." Roger said when he regained his poise, "But the kind of power you're abusing can't be allowed to run free! Big O, its show-time!"  
Before Roger could move Big O, the massive eye of the blue megadeus flickered, and then let loose a massive laser beam. It crashed into the torso of Big O, rattling the stalwart megadeus and its pilot. Roger cried out as if he too had been physically struck. Big O stumbled and collapsed down onto it's back.  
  
Norman watched the unfolding battle with a growing sense of alarm. He had every confidence in Roger's abilities, but this megadeus seemed to be unlike anything that he and Big O had encountered before now. He had jumped when that laser beam had struck Big O, almost certain it would rip the old machine in two.  
"Norman" Dorothy said from behind the old butler, "Will Roger be all right?"  
"I'm quite sure he can handle this, Dorothy. Its just a new challenge for him, that is all."  
"Oh. That is good, I suppose. He can't die when we have a guest." Norman froze at the way Dorothy said this. He would have sworn that she sounded...sarcastic.  
"Dorothy, is something wrong?" He said, turning to face her. No sooner had he said this than the lights suddenly went out. A few moments later, they both heard Angel's scream.  
  
Roger groaned, trying to pull himself up off the floor of the cockpit, where he had landed when Big O had fallen. He climbed back into the pilots seat, struggling to assess the situation.  
The blue megadeus stood above Big O. It reached down, placing its large hands onto Big O's hips, and hoisted the black megadeus into the air. It moved, faster than anyone would expect of something so massive, and swung Big O like a baseball bat, slamming it into a nearby building. The two megadeus' disappeared behind a cloud of dust and dirt as the concrete structure collapsed from the blow.  
The blue megadeus leapt onto Big O, straddling it, and began leveling it with punch after earth-shattering punch. Roger screamed in the cockpit, and tried desperately to fight back. One of Big O's arms swung back, the huge piston in the forearm pounding back. But before he could bring the deathblow forward, the blue megadeus clamped one of its hands down onto the arm of Big O, squeezing. The black metal crumpled, and huge bolts popped from their place under the pressure. Roger scrambled to try to stop it, but the piston slammed forward, and the massive blast of energy that had been intended for his enemy instead caused the entire forearm of Big O to explode. Roger gaped, unable to believe the one-sided nature of this battle.  
But over Roger's cries something else rose: music. It was sweet and soft, and both megadeus' froze when it became clear over the sounds of the chaos. Roger froze, listening as the sound of the violin filled the cockpit. The blue megadeus swiveled its torso, gazing out over the skyline of the city.  
Standing on a building in the distance was a lone figure. The black hood and cape billowed in the wind. The violin was tucked under his chin, and he seemed totally unaware of the battle raging before him as he played. Roger's jaw dropped as he recognized the figure. The blue megadeus also seemed to recognize him, for it stopped in its assault. It stood, as if on command, and turned away from Big O, walking away, toward the ocean.  
Roger remained stuck in place, watching the unknown musician. He kept playing till the blue megadeus had vanished under the waves. He then turned toward Big O, as if addressing the old megadeus. He bowed, and then calmly jumped off the side of the building, vanishing from Roger's sight.  
Roger gulped, and then worked the controls, pulling Big O back to its feet. As they sank back below the surface of the city, Roger puzzled over what had just happened. His thoughts were interrupted when the speakers crackled, and Norman's voice came through.  
"Master Roger, I'm afraid there's been some trouble here at home." 


	7. Chapter 7

PART 6

Angel shot up in bed. Her eyes flicked nervously around the room, struggling to make out any shapes in the darkness. She clutched her sheets, her heart racing in her chest.  
"Is-is someone there?" she called out. There was no response. She scrambled for the bedside lamp. When she found it, she flicked its switch several times and then groaned with frustration. Evidently the power was out. "Norman!" she shouted, and then waited for several seconds. No response. "Norman!!!"  
"Hey baby" came the response. But it was most definitely not Norman's voice. A light pierced the darkness, landing on Angel, illuminating her lovely features. The light then turned up and revealed the cocky smile of Beck Gold. Angel screamed.

"What was that?" Norman asked, trying his best to navigate his way through the house in the dark. Dorothy soon solved his plight, as her disk drive slid open, pouring light into the room. "Why thank you, Dorothy." Norman said with a friendly smile.  
"It sounded like Angel" Dorothy observed. They both slowly walked through the mansion. The floorboards creaked under them, adding a further layer of tension to the already creepy situation.  
"Get em!" came a shout from the darkness. Suddenly two figures leapt out from the shadows. One of them began struggling with Norman while the other tried to wrap his arms around Dorothy and force her to the ground. But rather, found himself unable to even budge her. He strained, groaned, and then shouted, but still could not even move the android.  
Dorothy reached out and grabbed his collar, hoisted him into the air, and tossed him aside as if he were no more than a fly. She then proceeded to give the same treatment to the goon attempting to attack Norman. She turned her light upon them. Her eyes widened slightly when she found herself gazing upon Beck's henchmen.  
"Oh yeah, I dig strong women" Beck said from across the room. They both turned, and found themselves gazing down the barrel of a gun. "Now, would you be so kind as to direct us toward Paradigm's Top Negotiator's money?"  
"You have entered Master Roger's home uninvited" Norman responded, "I shall have to ask you to leave, now." Dorothy took a step forward, and Beck felt his finger tighten slightly on the trigger. But then, his memory conjured something up: 'If Dorothy is in any way harmed, I will peel you like an onion...'  
With a scream Angel threw herself at Beck, slamming herself into him, knocking him down to the floor. Beck's pistol discharged, the bullet pierced the chain holding up one of the chandeliers above, sending it crashing to the floor.  
"What do you know about Damian?" Angel shrieked as she tore at Beck's hair and clothes, "What do you know about Damian?!"  
"You crazy bitch" Beck growled, "get off me!" he slammed the butt of his pistol down onto Angel's head, and she went limp against him. He shoved her off and started to stand up, only to find himself hoisted off the floor and suspended I midair as Dorothy gripped him by his collar. "Damian!" Beck shouted as he squirmed to release himself. "I know Damian!"

"Who is Damian?" Dorothy said, her monotone voice almost disturbing in these circumstances.  
"Wayneright! He knew Tim Wayneright! And Solderno too!" At this Dorothy released him. He crashed down onto the floor and scrambled back against the wall.  
"He knew Dr. Wayneright?" Dorothy said. Her voice took a hopeful tone, strange for her.  
"He-he said that he knew....that he knew the real Dorothy." Beck said, struggling to catch his breath.  
"Who is he?" Dorothy's face betrayed her now, and for a moment, one would have sworn that she looked like a regular woman who had just attained her hearts desire.  
"I'm not sure. I just know where he is."  
"Where?"  
"He's..."  
"That will be enough!" Norman said as he stormed back into the room. Beck was not sure which was more imposing, the look in Norman's eye, or the machine gun he held in his hands.  
"Norman, wait..." But before Dorothy could finish, Beck attempted to take a shot at Norman, who returned fire. Beck scrambled out of the way, and the bullets tore the walls to pieces. He ducked behind a couch, and they exchanged fire for several minutes. "Stop, Norman!" Dorothy shouted, grabbing the weapon from the old soldier's hands. Before Norman could protest, Beck fired a shot that caught Norman in his leg. Norman shouted and sagged to the floor, clutching his wound, trying to stop the bleeding.  
Dorothy spun and faced Beck, who was back on his feet, running a comb through his hair. "Who is Damian?" she demanded, taking a step forward. Beck flashed her one of his characteristically cocky grins.  
"Well, I could just tell you...but he wants to tell you himself!" Dorothy's head swung around, as if expecting the mysterious Damian to leap out from the shadows. Beck laughed at her. "Ah, ah, ah, he said he'd meet you at a very special place, that you'd know where."  
Beck's two flunkies emerged from one of the adjoining rooms, their arms full of Roger Smith's money. Dorothy watched them go, wanting to stop them, but also desperately wanting to know what they knew. They both made for the door, and Beck followed, backing away slowly. He gave Dorothy a wink and laughed again. "So long babe. I'll let Solderno's ghost know you said hi!"  
Dorothy watched them leave. One would argue that, as an android, she had no feelings, nor any knowledge of them. But at that moment, Dorothy most definitely was trying to find such knowledge, for she was totally unsure of what to feel.

"Colonel Dastun..." a young officer of the Military Police said as he stepped into the Colonel's office.  
"Yes?" Dastun said, looking up from the papers on his desk.  
"We followed up on that lead you suggested. Here's what we found." He handed a slim filing folder to the Colonel, who flipped through it with a keen interest. His eyes scanned over each of the papers, until they found something that interested him. He read it, re-read it, and then slammed the folder down onto the desk.  
"I had a feeling..." he growled. He stood up, grabbed his uniform- coat, and hurried out the door.

"Are you sure, Norman?" Roger said, standing nearby, ready to help his old friend if he needed it.  
"I am quite all right, Master Roger. It only grazed me." Norman stood up of his own power, though leaning against cane. He hobbled a few feet, stumbled slightly and Roger was instantly at his side, helping him back up.  
"Maybe you should just take it easy for a little bit, Norman" Roger suggested, "I can take care of myself."  
"But I must repair Big O" Norman insisted. "If that monstrous megadeus should come back..."  
"The Military Police are capable of handling it on their own" Roger said, even though they both knew the untruth of it. Norman finally sighed and nodded his head. "And what of Miss Angel?" Norman asked, focusing his single eye on Roger.  
"She took a pretty nasty bump, but she should be fine" Roger said. He helped Norman to his own bedroom, and left him to undress himself. Roger then stepped through the chaos of his living room, and onto the balcony. Dorothy had assumed her usual place, standing on the very edge of the stone railing, gazing out over the city.  
"Are you here to lecture me, Roger?" Dorothy asked, not even turning to face him.  
"No Dorothy. I just wanted to know, why didn't you stop them?" Dorothy waited a few moments, her hair blowing in the wind before she answered.  
"He said he knows who Damian is."  
"And what does that matter to you?"  
"I...am not sure, Roger." Dorothy hopped down off the railing and stood before him for a moment. "But I have to know who he is."  
"Why?"  
"I don't know. I just have to. Goodnight Roger." With that, Dorothy walked back into the mansion, leaving Roger alone on the balcony. He gazed out at Paradigm City, frowning.  
"I know you're out there, Damian, whoever you are..." Roger thought aloud, "But why are you doing all this to me?"

He ascended the stairs slowly. His footsteps echoed all through the empty halls. He stared straight ahead, his eyes never once moving from their destination. He came stepped into the massive room, and stood before the portrait of Dorothy. He looked up at, frozen in place.  
It was almost time. 


	8. Chapter 8

PART 7  
  
"Damian, Damian, Damian..." Roger kept repeating the name to himself, his whispers inaudible above the wind that whipped around his face. He looked up at the limitless sky and pondered possibilities that were just as limitless. He had not slept well the past two days, the name that had been plaguing him these past weeks not letting him rest. He had to know who this Damian was.  
"Roger?" a familiar voice said from below. Roger sat up and gazed down from his perch on top of one of the sculptures that decorated the balcony of his home. He smiled when he saw Angel was the one calling his name. She was walking, though with the aid of a cane. He hopped down and walked to her.  
"Well, glad to see you're up and about." He said. Angel threw him a small smile and moved closer.  
"I just want to thank you for letting me stay here in your home these past few days" she said as she came up in front of him. She gazed up into his eyes, and he found himself unable to look away. "I hope I haven't been a burden..."  
"No, no burden at all" Roger said with a charming smile. He felt a small tightness in his throat when Angel moved a little closer and placed one of her hands on his chest, drawing small circles on his shirt.  
"I've been thinking Roger...we could solve this mystery so much easier if we worked together, don't you think?"  
"That's a good suggestion" he said, placing his hand over hers. He felt a slight excitement stirring within him, the sort that a small boy feels when he gets a peek down an older woman's shirt. He looked at her lovely face, reading all the promise that it held. He released her hand and tugged at his collar a little. It felt hot all of a sudden.  
"I was thinking that later today we might take a drive down to Solderno's old factory" she said, turning to go back indoors. "There may be something there that could give us some clue to who Damian is."  
"Not a bad idea" Roger said, mainly because he had been considering doing it himself. He followed her inside. "But what makes you so sure Damian would be hanging around there?"  
"You heard what Dorothy said: that Beck told her he would say hello to Solderno's ghost." She threw a smirk over her shoulder at Roger. "I have a feeling that Damian IS Solderno's ghost."  
So engrossed in their conversation, neither of them noticed Dorothy watching from the doorway, her face stony and unreadable.  
  
"You're sure you can't remember?" Dastun frowned and crossed his arms. The old man seated before him looked up at him and sighed.  
"I'm sorry Colonel, but my memory is going faulty, even without whatever happened 40 years ago. And I birthed many baby's in my career, I couldn't possibly be expected to remember them all." Dastun looked down at the floor and tried to think of what do next.  
"What about records, birth certificates? There are bound to be some sort of records, right?" The old doctor considered this a moment.  
"Well, I suppose so. If a child was not born before 40 years ago, yes, there should be certificates. But the hospital would not let you look through their files without a warrant."  
"No problem" Dastun growled. He stood up straight and saluted the old man. "Thank you for your assistance doctor, you've been most helpful." The old man smiled and nodded, and Dastun left the house. "Now just one problem...how many people are there in this city named Damian?" he moaned to himself when he sat down in the backseat of the patrol car. He instructed the driver to head back toward headquarters.  
  
"Well, we did exactly what you told us" Beck said, running his comb through his swirly hair, "When do we get our payment?"  
"Not yet."  
"What?' Beck sneered and pocketed his comb. He narrowed his eyes at their mysterious client. He did not even turn his head to meet Beck's gaze. He simply sat there in front of the piano, staring down at the keys, unmoving.  
"The task is not yet complete."  
"What do you mean?"  
"When Dorothy has come here to me, then you shall have your reward. Not till then."  
"Now listen you..." Beck took a step forward and raised one fist, but was silenced when their client stood up, seeming to leave Beck dwarfed in his shadow. He stepped forward and locked his cold eyes onto Beck.  
"Perhaps you feel you are being treated unfairly?" Beck strained for an answer before swallowing the venomous words that had been on the tip of his tongue.  
"No...not at all..."  
"Very well then. Now go, I must prepare for the final play."  
"Why didn't you stand up to him?" Alexis asked when they stepped out into the street. Beck looked back up at the Wayneright Mansion and frowned.  
"You've seen what he can do. He would have squashed us like bugs." He jammed his hands into his pockets and started walking, Alexis walking alongside him. "Besides" he added with a smirk, "Anyone who can do stuff like that can break Roger Smith in half. And with Paradigm's Top Negotiator gone, this whole city will be out oyster.  
"I thought you hated seafood."  
Beck turned to explain his meaning to Alexis, then groaned and turned away.  
"Never mind, just never mind."  
  
"Looks like someone beat us here." Roger said, dripping with frustration. He stood inside Solderno's office within the ruined bowels of the old factory. The place had been ransacked; papers were tossed about, the desk draws all torn from their places. Angel hobbled about the room, occasionally bending down to examine some of the few scraps that had been left.  
"There's got to be something" she muttered, "There just has to be."  
"It doesn't look like it, Angel. Someone wanted whatever Solderno left behind." Roger walked around, taking in all the details, his mind conjuring images from the past. It was here where he held the dying Miguel Solderno in his arms, where the old man had called Dorothy his nightingale, and where he had first become acquainted with the troublesome android who had now become a fixture in his life. Try as he might, he could not imagine himself without R. Dorothy Wayneright now, nor did he desire to. He knew that Dorothy did not like Angel, but that was just too bad for now. Angel was a guest, and Dorothy should treat her with all the due respect of one.  
"I think I found something" Angel broke in, interrupting Roger's thoughts. He walked over and knelt down next to her. She held the small scrap of paper up for him to see. Roger removed his sunglasses and looked at it, reading the single line that was written across it.  
"Damian is almost ready..." 


	9. Chapter 9

PART 9  
  
Dorothy looked up at the high walls of the Wayneright Mansion. She searched herself for any signs of feeling, and found none. She was unsure what had drawn her here. She slowly strode along the outward wall that blocked the property off from the street. She came to the great rested gate. The chains that kept it locked had been cut through, most likely by that strange woman Roger insisted on associating himself with. Dorothy tightened a fist in a movement that could have been annoyance. Roger was a handsome, intelligent, and wealthy man. Why he chose to keep involving himself with that rude, conniving, and manipulative woman.  
Dorothy thrust those thoughts aside. She had to focus on the matter at hand: Damian. She did not know who was the person this name belonged to, but somewhere, in the deepest recesses of her memory banks, she knew that he had been here. The name rang inside her computerized mind, like the echo of a person's screams when they are first born. Somehow, she knew this Damian.  
Dorothy leapt over the gate, an easy task for her powerful mechanical legs. She walked across the decaying lawn till she stood before the front door. She looked up at the house, trying to summon any of the real Dorothy's memories. In its place, she found strange, exotic sensations; she desired to know who this Damian was, she was about to enter the place where the real Dorothy had been born, lived, and died, she was walking into a portal into the life she had been made to mirror. She wondered for a moment...was this excitement? Fear perhaps? Or just curiosity? Or perhaps a combination of all those things, and some other, unnamable feelings.  
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sound that slowly came to her on the wind. She focused on her internal machinery for a moment, and enhanced her hearing. Yes, it was there, quite distinct.  
It was a violin being played.  
  
Roger slowly applied each stroke of the brush. The paints smeared onto the canvas, taking shape with each touch. He smiled to himself, admiring his handiwork, and then looked at his subject.  
Angel was indeed a marvelous sight to behold in the fading daylight. The shadows of the vanishing sun crawled along the flawless skin of her back, which was nude to him, as she was wearing nothing from the waist up. She sat with her back to him, though seated slightly at an angle, allowing him to view just enough of her delicate breasts to permit decency. Her glorious hair seemed to sparkle in the blazing light of the setting sun, and when she occasionally brushed it back from her face shoulder it tumbled through the air, grabbing Roger's total attention.  
"I must admit, I was flattered when you asked if you could paint me" she said over her shoulder, shaking him from his admiration of her. He smiled and resumed his brushwork.  
"Well, I figure I won't get a chance like this again; you're perfect figure in the perfect sunset."  
"Flattery will get you nowhere" she chuckled. "How much longer will you be? I'm cold." She giggled slightly. Roger found himself unable to not watch the slight motion of her bared breasts as her body trembled with her laughter.  
"Just a little more shading should be enough for today" he said with a touch of brush to canvas. "If you're cold, I'll turn up the heat."  
"Hmm, that would be nice" she sighed over her shoulder, her voice lowering to a sexy baritone, "But there are other ways of staying warm." She threw Roger a gaze over her shoulder that sent chills through his body, causing him to nearly drop the paint covered brush he clutched in his hand. She allowed herself a cunning smirk and then decided to talk business. "Besides, don't you think we should be out looking for more clues about Damian?"  
"We've worked hard enough for today, now I just want to relax" he said as he made some final touches, "Besides, if anything, I have a feeling he will come find us soon enough." He stepped back for a moment to admire his own work, and then set down his pallet. "There. You can dress now." He turned around to untie his smock while Angel pulled her bra and shirt back on.  
She came over to him to look at the painting. She smiled, more than a little self satisfied; it was much better than the portrait he had made of Dorothy, and she herself was nowhere near as able to hold a pose as well. Surely this as a sign of some sort of favor.  
"Angel..." Roger said, and she turned to face him. His eyes were serious, and she felt her heart sink slightly, hoping there was not some sort of message to the contrary coming. "Why did you come to me for help?" he said, and she gave a tiny sigh of relief, her small fantasy undisturbed. "I know you have contacts elsewhere in the city...so why did you come to me?"  
"Well, Roger..." she said, stepping closer, "Truth be told, I'm not entirely sure myself. I guess I just felt I would be safe with you." She wrapped her arms around his torso and nuzzled her head against his chest. He slowly began to coil his arms around her when Norman spoke up.  
"Master Roger, I am so sorry to interrupt you and Miss Angel, but Colonel Dastun is on the phone. He says he needs to speak to you immediately."  
Roger and Angel both restrained glares of annoyance, and Roger excused himself. Angel looked at the painting as he left the room.  
"This better be important Dastun..." Roger said, his irritation clear in his voice as he held the phone to his face.  
"I'm at the cemetery Roger. How soon can you be here?"  
"The where?"  
"You better get down here now, Roger. There is something I think you need to see."  
  
Dorothy walked as quietly as she could through the dusty recesses of the mansion. The music was louder now, more clear. It flowed through the emptiness of the building, and she stopped every few minutes just to listen to it. It was very masterfully played, and the piece itself was one that she herself admired.  
She stepped into the large living-room, and stood before the portrait of the real Dorothy. She looked into its eyes, trying to see if she could perhaps find any piece of herself in them. Was she any different than the real Dorothy had been? She had been made to fill Dorothy's place in the world, but had she herself not assumed a unique role of her own? For a moment, she found herself conjuring up a slightly altered version of a question she had once asked Roger Smith: she wondered, if the real Dorothy had met Roger, would they have fallen in love?  
The music drew her out of these thoughts, and she continued to follow it. She slowly made her way up the winding staircase, stepping far more lightly and gracefully than a human being could, keeping her approach masked in silence.  
  
"What is it Dastun?" Roger snarled after stepping out of his car.  
"I can't quite explain it myself, Roger. You better just follow me and see for yourself." They started through the cemetery, winding through the rows of headstones, their heads bowed slightly in respect for the dead.  
  
Roger hesitated when they passed the graves of Timothy Wayneright and Miguel Solderno. He wondered if Damian had been the man Dastun had seen here. For a moment, his memory conjured the image of Dorothy kneeling to pray here, between the graves of her creators. But then his memory brought the image of the eyes that had gazed at him from under that red hood, and he shivered.  
"Roger?"  
"I'm fine Dastun. Just lead the way." They resumed their walk through the cemetery. They walked and walked, and Roger was almost beginning to wonder if they were ever going to reach their destination. They seemed to be going further and further back into the graveyard, back to where the graves of those who died shortly after The Event were buried. They stopped several feet from a group of headstones that were covered by ivy vines.  
"There" Dastun said, pointing, "The last stone on the right. Go look at it." Roger eyed his friend skeptically, but then did as instructed. He knelt before the marker, running his fingers over its smooth stone for a moment. He then began to yank determinedly at the vines that obscured the engraving from view. As he pulled them away, he felt his heartbeat starting to pound harder and harder, till he read the inscription, when his heart froze in his chest.  
"Damian!"  
  
Dorothy stood before the closed door, waiting, listening. The music was loudest now; clearly the musician was inside. She pushed the door open only a small crack, looking in.  
It was a large room, resembling Roger Smith's great living-room. There were some pieces of furniture, all in good condition, a fireplace, and windows covered by large drapes.  
And in the center of the room was a piano, so much like the one she played every morning to rouse Roger. It glistened, polished and smooth. The ivory keys seemed to almost glow in the dim light, and her finger twitched in an involuntary action.  
Bu demanding her full attention was the figure who stood next to the piano. He had the violin tucked against his shoulder. He played it like a master the music flawless. Dorothy found herself mesmerized by that music. She forgot herself, and took a few steps into the room. If the player noticed her presence he gave no indication of it. He kept on playing till he brought the melody to a heart-aching finish, the final chords echoing through the house just as they echoed through Dorothy. He set the violin into its case, resting on the piano, and closed it. He then turned, acknowledging Dorothy for the first time. He locked her with his eyes, so shockingly like her own. His face was unmoving, showing not the slightest hint of emotion. He strode across the great room till he stood directly in front of Dorothy.  
"Welcome home Dorothy" he spoke in a voice that would have made Dorothy's heart skip a beat if she had one, "I have been waiting for you."  
"Who are you?" Dorothy asked, her voice now holding more emotion than she had ever displayed in her artificial life up to this point.  
"I am R. Damian Wayneright. I am your brother." 


	10. Chapter 10

PART 10  
  
"I never knew Wayneright had a son." Roger was gazing out the window of Dastun's office, still struggling with the knowledge that he had acquired only a short while ago.  
"I don't have all the details yet, Roger, but it seems Timothy Wayneright did have one other child, besides the real Dorothy." Dastun was hunched over his desk, a variety of papers scattered across the wood surface. He held one up for Roger to see. It was a birth certificate. "It seems Wayneright's wife gave birth to a boy, about five years before they had Dorothy." He held up another document, and Roger took this one as well. It was a death certificate.  
"This is dated only a couple of months after the birth" Roger commented, his jaw dropping.  
"Yeah. I don't know the cause of death just yet, but it seems the baby didn't live for very long."  
"Wayneright must have been devastated..." Roger said, his voice faint as his thoughts began to wander.  
"Well, he did have Dorothy a few years later. That probably took some of the edge off it."  
But Roger did not hear this last statement. His mind reached back into the past year. It conjured images of another figure wearing a red hood who had also come seeking to take his life: RD, a psychotic android that looked just like Dorothy...  
"Dorothy!" Roger shouted, his mind suddenly bolting into the present once again. He put two and two together, and felt his stomach become a bottomless pit. He dashed out of Dastun's office, ignoring the protests of the Colonel as he went.  
  
Roger slammed his foot down onto the brake pedal, the car coming to a screeching halt. He jumped out and hurried up to the front gate of the mansion. He gazed up at it and sighed. After the last time, he had been hoping he would not have to return here again.  
It took him some time to force is way through the gates, but after squeezing his way between what space he could force, he made his way slowly into the house. As he navigated its dark corridors he cursed himself mentally. He should have thought of this before. If RD had been one of Wayneright's creations, why shouldn't there be more?  
And Solderno's ghost! It was Solderno himself who had helped to build Dorothy, and her larger sister creation, Dorothy II. More than likely RD was also some of his work. He should have known to look here when Big Ear told him that rumor in the first place. He grunted and kept walking.  
But he froze when something rose to his ears; music. The familiar sound of a piano being played filled the empty house. The flawless notes flowed hauntingly, and Roger knew immediately it must be Dorothy playing. But then a second sound, that of a violin, rose to join it. The two instruments worked together in perfect harmony, creating one of the most dreamy melodies Roger had ever heard. He continued slowly, not wanting to disturb the musicians. Finally he came before the same door that Dorothy had stood before not an hour ago. He pushed it open slightly, just as she had, and peeked in through the crack.  
And there she was! Dorothy was seated at a grand piano, her fingers gliding over the keys expertly. And standing next to the piano was another figure, so startlingly like Dorothy. His face bore the same fine, aquiline features. His eyes glinted with the same sort of light as Dorothy's; the eyes of a doll. He played the violin, matching each note perfectly. Their duet rose to a heart-wrenching crescendo, and finally sank into a soft finale. They both paused for a moment, waiting for the last echo of the final notes to fade. Then Dorothy rose and came around the piano to the stranger...and smiled!  
Roger's jaw dropped. Never had he seen her face light up so! Dorothy's eyes snapped shut, she jumped up, throwing her arms around the shoulders of this unknown figure. He threw his arms around her as well, his face matching hers, emotional now, full of life. He placed his hands on her hips and picked her up and then spun about the room with her. When they came to a stop he set her down, and she looked up at him, her eyes like those of a child seeing the stars for the first time.  
"You really are Damian!" Dorothy said, her voice sounding so different to Roger. "You are my brother!"  
"I have waited for this moment, Dorothy, when we would be united for the first time." His voice was deep, but had a rich smoothness that would have been soothing if Roger weren't already so alarmed. "The real Dorothy and Damian were never able to gaze into each other's eyes as we do now. That is why our father created us. We are the true image of his dreams." They shared another warm embrace, and Roger pushed the door open a little more to watch them.  
"Dorothy...there is something else I must show you" Damian said, breaking the momentary silence. Dorothy took a step back, waiting. Damian's eyes rolled up, and a section of his forehead broke from him, sliding out to reveal the disk drive that was contained within his cranium. He reached up and slowly removed the disk that rested inside it. He held it up in the dim light, which sparkled off it.  
"What is it?" Dorothy asked, her voice like that of a little girl gazing before a large gift with a bright bow tied upon it.  
"Our father, creator, intended for us to share this." He placed it out to her, and she slowly took it in her delicate hand. "There is an incomplete program within you, Dorothy. Within both of us. And this is the final data needed to complete it."  
"What...what does it do?" Dorothy said this in a whisper, awed by his voice.  
"When you upload this into your central matrix, it will activate that incomplete program. It will activate the program that will allow you to experience true emotional states."  
Dorothy's eyes widened, her pupils shrinking. Her mouth hung open, as if she were searching for the words that would express a dream come true. She stood, frozen as a statue, afraid to move, afraid to end this moment that would live forever within her memory. And across the room, behind the door, Roger wore the same expression.  
"And what of you, Negotiator?" Damian said, turning on his heel to face the door that Roger was listening behind. Roger jumped, struggled to suppress a yelp of surprise. He hadn't even realized Damian knew he was there. He quickly regained his composure, and stepped into the room. Dorothy frowned when she saw him, and for some reason this upset him more than he had imagined it ever would. "Would you deny my sister this chance? Would you rob her of this dream? Or will you finally grant her that which has eluded her, despite both your best efforts?"  
Roger straightened his tie and started straight into the emotionless eyes of the android that stood next to Dorothy.  
"Damian, I presume? I believe we've already met." Damian offered a slight bow of his head, acknowledging this statement.  
"He's my brother, Roger!" Dorothy said, not entirely sure why she felt the need to say this.  
"I see" Roger said, his face turning stern. "And do you realize that your brother almost killed Angel, wrecked the police station, tried to kill me?" Damian's face remained neutral, un-reactive to Roger's words.  
"Roger, why are you telling lies?" Dorothy shouted. Roger recoiled at this, feeling physically struck by her words. Dorothy looked up at Damian, desperately seeking validation. "Damian, that's not true...is it?" Damian closed his eyes, paused, the way a human would if they took a breath of preparation. Then he opened his eyes.  
"Yes Dorothy, I did commit these acts the Negotiator speaks of." He did not turn his head to see Dorothy's injured face. He kept his gaze firmly rooted to Roger's. "I acknowledge my fault, Roger Smith, and I ask your forgiveness. It was the honest reaction of a concerned sibling. I merely wished to ascertain if you were truly holding the best interest of my sister in mind."  
"And how do you explain what you did to Angel?"  
"The woman was snooping where she did not belong!" Damian snarled, suddenly growing defensive.  
"You almost killed her, and could have crippled her for life!" Roger shot back.  
"Then she shouldn't have trespassed here!"  
"Stop it!" Dorothy shouted. Damian and Roger both turned to her, their surprise clear. Dorothy also was surprised. She hesitated a moment, shrinking back, her hands over her mouth. But finally she calmed and addressed them both seriously.  
"These are serious charges you are making, Roger. And Damian has offered good reasons for all of them. But I won't have the two of you fighting over what is best for me without giving me a say in it." She turned to her brother and held the disk out to him. "I thank you for giving me this option, Damian, but I must think about this decision before I make it. You understand, don't you?"  
"Better than you can understand, Dorothy." He took the disk and placed it back inside the drive in his cranium. He gave Dorothy a final hug before she walked over to Roger.  
"I am ready to go home now, Roger." She stepped past him, out the door, into the hall. Roger remained, dumbstruck as he struggled for the right thing to think. He looked at Damian, their eyes meeting, one soul beyond reproach, one empty as air. They gazed at each other, but finally Roger broke off the stare and followed after Dorothy.  
  
"Dorothy..." Roger said as he started the engine. But Dorothy made no response. She sat, gazing out the window. Roger gulped, and drove. They remained, in silence, until they finally pulled into the garage below Roger's home.  
Damian watched them leave from a window. His face changed once again. But this time, his eyes narrowed into a look of murderous rage, and his mouth turned down into a frown of hatred. 


	11. Chapter 11

PART 11  
  
"So you met Damian?" Angel sat on the loveseat, nursing a cup of coffee. Roger paced back and forth before her, occasionally stopping to lean against the wall or rub his temples.  
"Yeah" he grunted in response. He stopped and looked at her. She sipped from her mug calmly. "So Wayneright had a son, did he?"  
"DID is the operative word" Roger sighed as he sat down alongside her. "The android that attacked you is just the image of what Wayneright though his son would have been if he had lived to grow up."  
"Odd."  
"What's odd?"  
"You refer to Damian as an android, yet you don't seem to think of Dorothy as such." Roger was dumbfounded by these words. She sounded almost...jealous. "So, what are you going to do now?"  
"I'm not sure." He sighed and leaned his head back against the chair, gazing up at the ceiling. "I know Damian's actions have been wrong, and I'm sure he's somehow connected to that blue megadeus but...I've never seen Dorothy act like she did around him. She was acting so...emotional. Like she really was human, if only for a moment. I don't think I could live with myself if I took that away from her."  
"Are you nuts?" Angel screamed suddenly, rising from her seat, her mug dropping from her hands onto the floor, its contents staining the rug. "That thing tried to kill me?"  
"I know, I know" Roger said, waving his hand in the air, "But then again, why where you sneaking around in Wayneright's mansion?" He looked up at her. Her jaw was dangling loose, her eyes disbelieving. He pressed further. "What if Damian is the one telling the truth? You have lied to me before, Angel."  
"Roger...why would you believe that thing...over me..." her lips trembled, her eyes grew glassy, and finally she spun and ran from the room. She went into the guest bedroom where she had been sleeping, and slammed the door.  
Roger stood, for a moment wanting to go after her, but instead clasped his hands into fists of uncertain rage, gazed down at the floor through his closed eyelids, and grunted over his thoughts. He knelt down and picked up the mug she had dropped. He stood slowly, gazing at its rounded contours as if they would somehow reveal to him the answer he sought. But when he finally realized they would not, he snarled with frustration and hurled it. It smashed against the wall, leaving broken shards and black drips as its pieces fell to the ground.  
  
Dorothy walked with a sense of calm she had never known. Her mechanical mind was entirely distracted from its present task. She did not think of the people milling about around her, the cars on the street before her, the groceries in her arms. Her thoughts were floating in a dream world she had never experienced before.  
She stood at the corner, waiting for the traffic light to change so she could cross the street. Internally, she wondered what it would be like to have those precious things humans call emotions. Roger took his for granted, never really appreciating just what it was he had. He toyed with the emotions of others, women in particular, without realizing just what it was he was doing. If she accepted Damian's gift, she would be careful not to be so selfish.  
And yet...there was another, lingering question. She had once asked Roger Smith if, had she not been an android, would they have fallen in love? But now she found herself faced with other questions. Once she was capable of feeling, would she fall in love with him? And what's more, if she did, would he love her in return? She wondered, what was it like to be in love, what was it like to find yourself totally at ease in the arms of another, without a care in all the world.  
So absorbed was she in these thoughts, she could never possibly have known what was coming...  
  
"Are you sure about this, Beck?" Alexis whispered.  
"Of course I'm sure. Don't worry about it." He ran his comb through his swirly locks and smiled, self-satisfied. It had taken him weeks to learn Dorothy's habits, he had no intention of backing out now. "Just be sure that when she comes around the bend, you guy's get on her right away."  
  
"Yes boss..." Beck's goon's both moaned in unison. They had received thrashings at the hands of Dorothy before, the thought of another one was unpleasant.  
"Don't you remember what Damian said?" Alexis implored. Beck dismissed her worries with a flick of his wrist.  
"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides, it'll give us a better bargaining chip." With that he reached into his coat and withdrew a long, black rod. He pressed a button on the end of it, and blue sparks danced along the tip. He smirked, and waited.  
  
Dorothy blinked in surprise. It took her a moment to shake off the pleasant dreams that had been inhabiting her mind a moment ago and let reality set in. The groceries she had been carrying where spilled on the ground. There were two men attempting to grapple with her. She recognized them quickly, and simply did her old routine of going stiff. They both found it impossible to raise her arms.  
"Do you never learn?" she sighed. She raised her arms of her own accord, hoisting the both of them off the ground in the process. She swung her arms out the side, throwing the both of them away to the sides. They flew through the air to rough landings.  
Dorothy prepared to run when a sharp burn tore through her spinal unit. She stiffened up, then collapsed to the ground alongside the groceries. Beck chuckled and put the stun-gun back into his pocket.  
"Pick her up and lets get going." He reached for his comb when the distinct sound of tires screeching rose to his ears. He looked around for the source of the noise, but it found him instead.  
The pink motorcycle tore down the street. Beck leapt out of the way, pushing Alexis to the ground as it rocketed past them. It ground to a halt, and the distinctively female figure straddling it called out to the android who rose, trembling to her feet.  
"Dorothy, get on!" Beck reached for the stun-gun, but already the familiar woman had a real gun pointed at him. He dropped the weapon and raised his hands up, cursing between his teeth. Dorothy stumbled her way over to the bike, sat behind the pink-clad woman, and they took off into the night.  
Unnoticed by all was the black car that was parked further down the street. The figure who sat behind the steering wheel grimaced, and gripped the wheel in fingers trembling with rage.  
  
"Why did you do that?" Dorothy finally said. She stood, facing Angel in the parking garage beneath Roger's home. Angel slid the helmet from her head and shook her long, blonde hair away from her face. She looked directly into the android's eyes, her own never wavering.  
"Well, I saw you leaving and thought you were going to see Damian again."  
"You were following me then? Why?"  
"Lets just say...I wanted to find out if I really am a liar or not." Dorothy's face remained unmoving, but Angel had a feeling she needed to explain in some other manner. She ran a hand through her hair and looked at the ground. "Just tell Roger that now we're even for him saving me." She sat back down on her bike, placing the helmet back on her head. As she revved the engine, she turned and looked over her shoulder at Dorothy. "Dorothy..."  
"Yes?"  
"I think you and Roger better pay your brother a visit soon. Somehow, I don't think he is going to take what Beck just did very well." With those words, Angel sped off into the night. Dorothy stood, watching, but finally turned and walked into the building.  
  
Greetings once again, true believers! Yes, after months of neglect, I am finally back to work on my fics. I must apologize thoroughly to all of my loyal readers for this prolonged absence. I have been very busy lately with a new job and summer classes, and in the time I had to write I was just drained creatively. But, class ended last week, and I have settled into my new career comfortably, and can finally devote time to my writing once again! Keep reading, true believers, there is only one more chapter in the saga of Damian, and you will never guess at the ultimate ending! 


	12. Chapter 12

PART 12 

"Are you crazy?" Alexis nearly shrieked. Beck stifled her nervously.  
"We're just getting what he owes us. No way he knows about what we did."  
They crept slowly through the corridors of the mansion. The floorboards creaked beneath them, adding a fresh layer of tension to an already nervous occasion. Beck gulped and wiped some sweat from his forehead. They approached the door slowly. He reached for the knob with a trembling hand.  
Damian sat on the bench before the piano. He was looking down at the keys, his foggy. He almost seemed to be asleep. He emitted a soft hum, like a motor running from blocks away. Beck cleared his throat. "Uh...hey!"  
Damian's head rose. His neck arched, slowly turning to face Beck. The eyes rolled over in their sockets, revealing the cold, emotionless pupils. A chill ran down Beck's spine the moment those cold orbs locked onto him.  
Damian stood up, knocking the bench over. He began to walk toward them, one step at a time, slowly at first, but then with increasing speed.  
"I warned you Beck..." he said in a hushed tone as he advanced. Beck and Alexis both felt themselves slide back against the wall as if they could somehow fade through it, fade away from the monstrosity that was coming for them. "I warned you what would happen if you laid a finger on Dorothy!" Damian snarled, taking long, heavy strides, his feet slamming down onto the floor, kicking up clouds of dust.  
"Beck, run!" Alexis screamed, her voice cracking. She grabbed his wrist and they both hurried for the door, but Damian was on top of them instantly. He jammed his hand up against the door, making it impossible to open. Then, with a sweep of his other arm he sent them both flying back into the room.  
They both scrambled to their feet, motivated by the sound of the footfalls coming back across the room at them. But too late. Damian clapped his hand down onto Alexis' cranium and lifted her writhing from the floor. A single jerk. The sound of wet broccoli stalks being broken. Alexis fell to the floor, her eyes crossed in a gaze of death.  
Beck groaned with grief and fear as Damian's pale hand reached out for him...  
"DAMIAN!" The cry pierced the air. Beck and Damian's heads both swung around to see Dorothy standing in the doorway. Damian's eyes went large as saucers and his jaw dropped, already groping for an excuse. Dorothy's eyes flicked from the cooling body of Alexis to Damian. Eyes narrowing, as if tears were about to flow, Dorothy began to step back. "Damian...how could you?" she said, and spun away, running back through the halls.  
"Dorothy!" Damian called after her, instantly taking off to follow her. "I didn't want to! They forced it! I'm sorry!"  
Alone in the dark room, Beck gave a low moan of relief and collapsed.

Damian burst out the doors into the front yard of the mansion. Looking straight ahead, he saw Roger Smith's car parked on the curb right outside the gate. Dorothy was seated in the driver seat, her head against the steering wheel. Her body twitched, and she emitted low sobs, even without tears. Roger Smith himself stepped forward, blocking her from his view.  
"You stay away from her Damian, I mean it!" he demanded.  
"Dorothy..." Damian said, ignoring Roger as he slowly stepped closer, "You must listen to me. I..."  
"Forget it!" Roger interrupted. "She knows all about you now, Damian. She knows all that you've done."  
"Dorothy" Damian said, still ignoring Roger and stepping closer, "You have nothing to fear from me. I wouldn't hurt you for..."  
"Go away Damian...please, just go away..." she pleaded through her sobs.  
Damian took a step back, his hand going over where a human heart would be, his jaw dangling now. His head lowered, staring at the ground. His fists clenched, trembling, and then he looked up to the sky and leashed a long, mournful cry to pierce the heavens.

"Colonel Dastun!" a young officer shouted as he rammed into Dastun's office. The colonel looked up from his papers, a bitten through doughnut dangling from his lips. "The blue megadeus just appeared off the harbor! Its coming!"

"What happened to him?" Roger said, stepping cautiously up to Damian. The android stood, frozen, his hand reaching toward the sky. His eyes had grown dim, as if the life had drained from his body. "He looks fine, but there doesn't seem to be anybody home..." he snapped his fingers in front of Damian's eyes, to no avail.  
The beeping from his multi-purpose wristwatch drew his attention. He looked down at it. "Yes Norman?"  
"Master Roger, I felt that I should inform you that a megadeus has just entered the city harbor. It seems to be headed right for you."  
"Thanks Norman. Be sure to..."  
"He should be there in ninety seconds sir. Shall I be setting an extra place for dinner?"  
"I have a feeling only one android is coming home, Norman." Roger said as he turned his attention toward where the sound of sirens were now blaring. He held his wrist up to his face.  
"Big O...showtime!"

The blue megadeus faced its black counterpart. It stood, waiting for Big O to finish emerging from the massive hole it had come from. The same demonic voice Roger had heard earlier crackled over Big O's loudspeakers.  
"This time, no mercy Negotiator!"  
"I should have guessed" Roger smirked, ignoring the threat, "If there was a megadeus attached to Dorothy, why shouldn't there be one for Damian?"  
"We, I, us. We are Damian, both us. And once Dorothy joins us, we shall be whole at last. The pathetic people of this city can't stop us, and neither will you!" The massive eye in the center of its head began to flicker, and then the same massive pillar of energy emitted forth from it. But this time Big O was prepared, holding up both of its massive forearms, reflecting the bolt away. It crashed back into its creator, sending it stumbling back.  
Big O charged forward, and Damian met it full force. The titans crashed into each other, the impact of their collision shattering glass for a mile. They grappled with each other, both digging their monstrous feet into the concrete of the streets for leverage. The blue megadeus suddenly lifted one leg, slamming its knee into Big O's midsection. Big O hunched over, like a man who had just had the wind knocked from him, and the blue megadeus crashed both its fists into Big O's back, throwing it to the ground. As Big O lay prone, it moved in.  
Inside the cockpit, Roger gave a shout of desperation and quickly pressed his finger down onto one of the many switches.  
One of the massive harpoons that adorned Big O's waist fired from its position, the enormous chain trailing behind it. It flew up, into the massive eye of Damian. The crystal glass shattered, sending house sized shards flying in all directions. An inhuman cry of pain tore through Big O's loudspeakers, and Roger quickly capitalized. Big O rolled onto its back, slammed its fists together.  
"Chrome buster!" Roger shouted as the beam of pure energy lanced from the top of Big O's head. It tore into the blue metal of Damian, ripping the head straight from the massive shoulders. Damian recoiled, the hands reaching up to find the absent head.  
Big O rose to its feet. It swung one arm back, the piston in that forearm slamming back. The fist flew forward, bashed into Damian's chest, and the piston mashed forward. The entire chest cavity of Damian blew out, leaving a gaping hold in its torso. It wavered on its feet for a moment, and finally fell, collapsing backwards, its fall leaving a massive crater in the city streets.  
Roger Smith breathed a sigh of relief, and then remembered something. "Dorothy!"

Dorothy turned from the battle that she had just been watching, her concentration disturbed by the sound of footsteps. Her eyes grew large when she saw the body of her brother gone. She looked up at the door of the mansion, and saw it swung wide open. She charged after him.  
She found him back up in the large room where they had first met. He was placing his violin back into its case. He snapped it shut.  
"Where are you going, Damian?" she asked.  
"I am leaving Paradigm City, Dorothy. I will seek greener pastures beyond its borders." He turned and faced her. "You would be well served to come with me. There is nothing here for either of us."  
"I cannot allow you to leave, Damian." Dorothy stepped into the room, slamming the door shut behind her. She stood, ready for anything.  
"I will not fight with you Dorothy, not against my own flesh and blood."  
"But you are wrong, Damian. We are not flesh and blood. We are androids."  
"But could be so much more..." he slowly stepped forward. Dorothy remained frozen to the spot, refusing to run from him. "Come with me Dorothy...and I'll give you the disk out father made for you" he cajoled. Dorothy hesitated now, her body shuddered with the thought. "There is so much more to it than the emotions, Dorothy. There's memories, dreams...sights and sounds you could not imagine..." he stepped up before her, placed his hands on her shoulders. He looked into her eyes, matching them with his own, and Dorothy knew what must be done.  
Damian flew across the room, propelled by the fist Dorothy had put into his chest. He stopped himself before the curtains that hung over one side of the wall, knowing what lay behind them. Dorothy did as well. She flew forward and gave him one final push, sending him back into those curtains, through the glass of the windows they covered. She waited for the sound of a thud, but heard none.  
She found him outside, impaled on one of the broad-iron spikes that made up the fence that surrounded the house. He twitched and writhed as he attempted to free himself. She walked up to him, tapped his forehead, and his disk drive slid out. She reached for it.  
"Dorothy, what are you doing?" he said, his voice layered with panic.  
"I am afraid I must deactivate you, Damian" she said without a hint of feeling. "You have proven yourself too dangerous to be allowed to roam free."  
"Dorothy! I love yooooouuuu..." Damian moaned as his voice died.  
"I know, Damian..." she whispered as she watched the light flicker and die in his eyes. "I know."

"I am nearly done, Master Roger." Norman said. Roger looked past the old butler. Damian's body lay on a lab bench nearby. The body had been taken apart, the arms and legs both removed from the torso. The disk drive still lay out from his forehead, like a tongue sticking out, mocking the world.  
"That's good Norman." Roger turned away and sighed. For a moment, he was thankful Dorothy had no emotions, for he could not have imagined what she would be feeling after this.  
As if summoned by this thought, Norman cleared his throat.  
"Master Roger, there is one more thing..."

He found Dorothy in her usual spot. She stood on the ledge of the balcony, looking out over the city. The wind blew past the both of them, her hair flapping away from her face. Roger admired that face for a moment, in all its artificial perfection.  
"I'm sorry, Dorothy." He finally spoke up. "I know it must have been hard to do what you had to do."  
"I only knew him briefly, but still, I am glad that I met him." She replied, not turning to look at him. "I think he taught me something about myself."  
"And what is that?" he arched an eyebrow. Dorothy did a perfect summersault, flying through the air, and landed clean on her feet before him.  
"That, human or not, I am unique. There is only one Dorothy, and I am her." She started to walk away when Roger spoke up again.  
"Um, Dorothy, there is something else..." She turned to look at him. He reached into his pocket and then held out the disk. "Norman was able to salvage this from Damian. Its not damaged. I don't see any reason why we can't use it."  
Dorothy came up to him, her eyes bright and hopeful. It was the same look that she had worn when she first met Damian, and it tugged Roger's heart to see it again. She reached out, as if yearning to touch the disk, yearning to touch the miracle of life. But then she pushed Roger's hand down, the disk still clutched in it.  
"No, Roger."  
"No?" Roger gaped. "But, isn't this what you've always wanted?"  
"Damian was older, more worldly than I," she said, turning her head and looking out at the city once again. "But yet, once he had them, he could not control his own feelings. I do not see how I could be expected to do any better." She looked back up at Roger. "Perhaps, one day, when I feel I am ready." She turned and walked inside.  
Roger remained, pondering her words. From inside the mansion, the sound of the piano being played rose to his ears. He pocketed the disk and smiled to himself.  
"You may be an android, Dorothy Wayneright, but you are far more human than anyone I've ever met." He chuckled to himself, and went inside.

That's it, true believers! So ends the Saga of Damian. I cannot thank all of you who have reviewed enough. I appreciate it more than any of you can ever know. It's been a great ride. I have enjoyed writing this fic tremendously, almost as much as I have enjoyed getting your feedback for it. Keep reading, and keep believing!


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